Oct 15, 2012

The Benefits of Being Bold

As the day went along, I felt like I was living in a Penthouse letter. "This kind of thing just doesn't happen to me," I kept thinking.

It all started innocently enough. I was heading to another city for the weekend. It's close enough to drive there in a little over an hour but far enough away from my home town that it felt like a vacation. Before I left I thought I'd look on Fetlife and browse the folks in the area. One woman in particular caught my eye. On her profile she talked about being a smart-ass. Also, everything it was free of misspellings and grammatical errors; a rarity. (I'm the kind of asshole who goes through profiles on CollarMe.com and send spelling corrections to entries that would have otherwise interested me).

I dropped her a line and was more than a little shocked when a received a response a few days later. I tried to handle things gingerly; I didn't want to spook her by letting her in on my excitement. It's rare that anyone ever respond to me, much less someone who seemed so interesting. I had only ever met two people who I had met via Fetlife and both of them had been friends of friends. Neither have gone beyond an initial meeting, though there was no animosity at the end. Both were "we just need to find time" people who flummoxed me. (You mean you can't find an hour to grab a cup of coffee even though I'm in your neck of the woods and gave you a week's notice? I finally figured out it wasn't the coffee or the half hour. It was me.)

Apparently, my response back to her didn't turn her off. We exchanged emails over the evening. Eventually she escalated and suggested we text. I countered with a complaint about my tiny keyboard and gave her my number with a suggestion to call. She did.

I turned off the lights and got in bed, bringing her with me. Her voice, anyway. We talked for well over an hour. Maybe it was the late hour or the drinks I had with dinner but I found the nerve to ask, "Are you free for lunch tomorrow?" I told her that I wanted to try a local Edgar Allen Poe-themed restaurant. She agreed to meet me there at noon. Again, my head swam at the idea.

Sure enough, she was there right at noon. We picked right up from our chat the night before, talking about ourselves and learning about one another. By the time the bill came I gulped hard and laid my cards on the table. "I'd love to continue this conversation. I'd like if you would come back with me to my room and, if you were into it, I'd love to play. If not, that's fine. I'd still like to talk with you more. No harm, no foul."

I had to keep my jaw from hitting the floor when she agreed. I had the horrible feeling that I'd get back to my hotel and she'd never show up.

We sat and chatted some more, even talking a bit when I got down on the floor, removed her shoes, and began massaging her feet.

She began touching my head, rubbing the stubble of my freshly shorn skull. Such a little thing but it felt so good.

I got up onto my knees and rested my head on her chest while she continued to rub my head.

I pushed myself and made one, final bold move... I raised my head and kissed her.

From there, the scale tipped and all bold moves belonged to her...



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